


Bind

by redtailedhawk90



Category: The Room Where It Happened (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Non-Canonical Character Death, Spoilers, Starts close to canon and will gradually diverge, and minor to moderate spoilers for later episodes, dark!AU, so expect spoilers definitely through episodes 37-38
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-08 00:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16418828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtailedhawk90/pseuds/redtailedhawk90
Summary: /bīnd/Verb1. To tie or fasten (something) tightly2. (Falconry) To grab and hold, like quarry





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harpydora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harpydora/gifts).



“Tseer, are you okay?”  Wyatt looked back at Tseer, but the aarakocra’s eyes were closed.  He seemed unsteady on his feet, and held a talon up to his head like it hurt.  Wyatt turned to face him fully, confident now that they were back in their own plane of existence, at least.  “Hey, can you hear me?” he said, pitching his voice softer. He reached out to touch Tseer’s shoulder.

Tseer’s eyes snapped open, brilliant red and piercing, and something cold and horrible slithered down Wyatt’s throat to sit in his gut. Aarakocra were notoriously hard to read, with their inhuman body language and expressionless faces, but Wyatt had spent months with Tseer in the Feywild, unable to put even twenty feet of distance between each other, and he had become intimately familiar with the meaning of every twitch and feather.  

The look Tseer was giving him was not the warm regard he had come to know or expect.  He wasn’t looking at Wyatt like the friends--partners?--they had become.

He was looking at Wyatt like prey.

“Tseer, please, tell me what’s wrong,” Wyatt pleaded as he stumbled backward, palms out in surrender.  Tseer matched him step for step.

“What’s wrong?” he spat.  “You took my parents from me!  You hired an assassin to kill my friends!”  He grabbed Wyatt’s throat in his talons, pushing him against a wall. Wyatt felt a prickle, and then a sting, and then a bite as Tseer’s claws punctured his skin.  Panicked, he scrambled for purchase against Tseer’s arm, and found none.

Wyatt’s chest became warm and wet with blood.  He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Weak and getting weaker, his hands fell away from Tseer’s to dangle uselessly at his side. 

_ Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now, _ Tseer had said six months ago when they first entered the Feywild.  Back then, it was only the magic connecting them that saved Wyatt’s life, ensuring that any harm done to Wyatt was also done to Tseer.  It was clear now that whatever fluke had linked them was undone with their return to the material plane, and Tseer didn’t remember anything that had happened.  

( _ Or _ , said an insidious voice in the back of his mind,  _ He does remember and it doesn’t matter. _ )

But Wyatt did remember.  He remembered holding Tseer, soaked to the bone and shivering, through Winter nights to keep him from freezing.  He remembered running through Summer as a feypanther chased them, and the heart-stopping dread of seeing Tseer and the predator lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.  He remembered traded stories and laughter around a shared meal, and whispered fears in the dark nights under foreign stars.

_ “What are we gonna do?” Tseer’s voice floated up to Wyatt, interrupting the flood of equations and sigils flitting rapid-fire through his mind.  “You know--when we get out?” They were in one of the archfey’s many guest rooms, taking a break from the research that would get them home. It was incredibly frustrating--Wyatt would sooner be working around the clock than wasting time staring at the ceiling--but they were at the archfey’s mercy in that, and many other, respects. At least Timitophecles had provided them a room, although they had seen fit to provide them with only one tiny bed and no perch--probably their version of some kind of joke.  Tseer had, of course, stubbornly refused entertain even the idea of Wyatt sleeping on the floor. _

_ Wyatt rolled to look over the edge of the bed.  Tseer was lying on his side, his arm curled under his head to support it, drawing patterns in the rug with one claw.  He didn’t meet Wyatt’s gaze, which told him that he was genuinely worried. “Well,” said Wyatt, keeping his voice low, “I guess it depends how much time has passed.  If it’s been as long out there as it has been here, then maybe your friends will have already stopped Stanton, and we won’t have to worry about it at all.” _

_ “That’s not the part I’m worried about,” Tseer said, so soft Wyatt had to strain to hear him.  Wyatt’s heart fluttered. Slowly, so Tseer could move if he wanted, Wyatt lowered himself to the floor in between Tseer and the bed.  Tseer watched him, gaze as fierce and shielded as always, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he scooted closer until his beak nearly touched Wyatt’s nose.  Wyatt barely breathed. Whatever had settled between them after the incident with the kelpie, it still felt fragile and fleeting. Wyatt had fucked up so many things when it came to Tseer, hurt him in so many ways.  This wouldn’t be another one. _

_ Tseer was still tracing patterns into the rug without even looking at it.  Wyatt let his hand settle over the top of Tseer’s, stilling the motion, and Tseer turned his talon so that they were palm to palm.  Something bright and warm filled Wyatt’s chest. He wanted to say that whatever happened, they would face it together.  _ We came this far, _ he saw himself saying.   _ We can handle whatever comes next. _  But instead he said, “We’ll deal with that when we get to it.” _

Wyatt’s vision was getting so hazy, the memory felt more real than the world around him.  Tseer’s claws dug into his neck, but the searing pain of it was distant, now. His eyelids were heavy, and he couldn’t even hold his head up anymore; the weight of it rested on Tseer’s wrist.  The rest of him hung limp. It was a testament to Tseer’s fury that he could hold Wyatt up against the wall without help. Wyatt felt a bizarre flush of pride at the thought. 

The end was nearing.  Magic thundered through him in that way it did when death stood close.  It had always been a comforting survival reflex--one he had counted on when he fought Tseer and his friends at the Keeper archive--but it was the last thing he wanted now.  He had to fight to keep the fire in his blood from erupting--he couldn’t stand the thought of burning Tseer, even if it would save his own life. 

“Tseer, please,” he rasped, but Tseer merely tightened his grip until he couldn’t breathe anymore, either.  There was a tearing sensation, and something crumpled.

_ Of course _ , Wyatt thought,   _ It’s no less than I deserve, anyway. _

Tseer’s expression never changed, even as the last of Wyatt’s life poured from his throat to pool on the floor.

* * *

Tseer flew back to the warehouse, only stopping briefly at a park to wash the blood off his talons.  Staring at his reflection in the still water of a pond, he couldn’t help but notice how red his eyes were.  He was pleased with the change--yet another indication that he was shedding the awkwardness of his youth--but also unsettled.  Just yesterday they had much more orange in them. He shook his head, but his eyes weren’t the only part of his image that didn’t quite make sense.  His wings drooped with exhaustion, much more so than the night’s events warranted. Sure, they’d dealt with the fiasco at Orron’s bar a few hours ago, and then the assassin, and to top it all he finally had his revenge, but the weariness engulfing him now felt like the weight of months.  Maybe Wyatt had magically aged him, like those shadows in the Keeper archives. 

He didn’t think that was the case, but his mind kept skipping over the details, like it was a light too brilliant to look at.  He thought he would feel more accomplishment, but all he felt was tired. And his chest hurt. He rubbed at it self-consciously as he took flight again.  It must have been from when the Heart went haywire.

He could remember, vaguely, forcing his way into Wyatt’s lab, pushing him back against his experiment.  Wyatt had crossed his arms like he had in that parking garage, when he banished himself, and then…

 

Ẃ̴̰̿͒͝y̷̧̳̭͍̹̑͜͠ā̷̞̣̝̭̻͙͈̜͖̈́̄̌͑̃̀ͅt̶̖͆̒̓̃͗͗́̃̑͗͑͌t̷̢̨͇̻̳͚̯̟̟̼̟͑͂̌̌̃͌̒͒̇͌̽͑̋̋,̸̯͍̠͈̪̜͑ ̵̨̨̛̮̩͓̞̝̳͖̭͇̣̫̲̂͊̐͑̉͛͆̎̿͋͠ͅṉ̶̜͖̼͇̞̭̈́̏̓͝ǫ̷̪̙̼̾͋̓̈́̓͑̑̒̆́̽͝,̶̨̡̧̛͓͙̟̯̺̭̙͐͆͑̐͆̃̃͂͜͝ ̴̢̳̣̫̲̦̻̈̃̊̋̓̍Ḯ̸̞͉̟̪̭͙̙̗̔̌̊̽͌̃̑͘͝ ̸̡̨̛̣̙̤̥̱̤̮͎͓͇̖̩̭̽̿̑͑c̴̡̨̖͓̼̮̙̭͖̳͚̍͂̿͂͐͜͜͜ä̵̢͕̯̟͎͕̻̳͔̰͓̪̝̭́̋́͐̿͝ņ̶̨̻̘͚̭̬̎̍̽̊̏́̿̕'̶̳̣̻̃͗̽̌͛̈̋̿̓̑̕͜t̶̖͓͚͉̱̝͇̖͔̫̤̍͊̔̋̋̽̒̐͊͗͠ ̸̨̡̰̟̤̣̲̗̗͔͎̼͇̭̑̈́̎̑͗̒̐̑͌͗̅͐̎g̸͕͙̟͚̽̈́̓o̷̡̲̪̻͓͉̖̭̜̦̐̃̅̌̈̊̍̂͘͘ ̶̧͇̗̱̤̥̯̞͕̙͕̭̹͕̬̎́̃͒̐̎̕b̴̡̛̻̝̗̲̙̖̪̿̾͋̍̾͒̈́a̷̢͔̤̮̪͚̲͌͗̽͗̎̉͒͌̕͝͝ͅc̵̨͚͙͖̰̤̠̗͑͜k̶̨̡̮̺̪̙͚͚͈̗͎̰̤̎͑̂ ̵̳̫̳̟͕̩̼͉̿̏̋̂̽̔͊͒w̷̠̲̋͠į̶̼̝̘̯̬̜̝̟̦͗͝ẗ̸̞̅͌͊͂͘h̵̙̘̣͙͍̦̔̄̉͜͝͝͝ȏ̴̢̹̳̺̪͝ǔ̴͖̙̥͓̰̟͓̝̼͗ţ̵̘̳̰͕͉̣̻͔͖̬̇̈́̈́̾̉̕ ̴͉͚̬͒͊͒̾̍̚͠ͅy̴̢̛̗̳͔̗̺̖̘̝̥̯̯̖̙͕̑̓̈͛̒̎̒̈́o̷̢̺̦͍̘̦͇̰̔̿̒̾u̶̼͚̫͍͇̜̰̠͂͜

 

...and then Wyatt was looking back at him, asking what was wrong, as if he didn’t know!  As if he thought Tseer could be there for any other reason than to kill him! 

Rage filled Tseer anew, and he pulled it around himself like a blanket.  It was comforting, familiar, and easier to understand than the dread scratching at the back of his mind.  Wyatt got what he deserved, no more. Tseer and his friends would put an end to Stanton, and Luume would be free of Ki-Rin’s horrific research for good.

Tseer’s chest throbbed, and he flew on.

The warehouse was quiet when he came in.  Seshmir looked like he was still out, but Orron was sprawled over one of the ratty couches downstairs, and Jared was snoring in the makeshift bed he had made for himself in the corner.  Tseer flew up to the second floor to avoid the creaky stairs and tiptoed past Tessa and Ai, cuddled on the small bed in the office, to his perch. Even the woman they had saved from the Moto Specialized Research facility appeared to be asleep.  

He pulled the curtain to give himself some privacy and settled in, but even as tired as he felt, sleep evaded him.  He pressed a palm to the center of his chest. An icy pit had formed there, and was spreading slowly outward. It almost made it difficult to breathe.   His shoulders shook as the air shuddered in and out of him.

_ Tseer, please.   _ The memory flashed, bright and garish, and Tseer flinched.  He reached for his rage, but came up empty this time. He saw Wyatt’s eyes, wide and pleading, staring out at him from the dark.  A sound escaped him, soft and wavering. 

“Tseer, is that you?” Tessa’s voice floated from behind the curtain, thick with sleep.  

“Uh--” His voice cracked through the frog in his throat.  He cleared it and tried again. “Yeah, it’s me. Just got back from my fly-over.  Everything’s fine.”

“Mmkay,” Tessa replied, and there was a rustle of fabric as she rolled over and went back to sleep.

_ I’m just relieved _ , he thought.   _ I’ve just been carrying this for too long.   _ He remembered how his teacher had sometimes made him hold weights for hours to train his discipline, and how it had almost hurt worse when he finally set them down, his muscles screaming at the change.  That was all this was.

Spidercat clicked into the room, drawn by the sound of his voice, and skittered up the wall.  They jumped onto his shoulders, headbutting his face. He scooped them into his arms and scritched their ears and chin, letting himself be drawn into the rhythm of their purr.  After a while, he felt his breathing begin to ease. He continued to cradle them until his eyelids drooped and his head dropped forward. They crawled back to his shoulders as his muscles finally relaxed and he slipped into unconsciousness.

_ He was in the woods, and it was snowing. No, not snowing.  Sleeting. He was in the woods, and it was sleeting. The wind howled through the bare trees, cutting him to the bone.  His feathers, usually waterproof, did nothing to prevent the cold and wet from seeping into his skin. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore, and he could barely see through the ice that had formed on his eyelashes.  Every step was a monumental effort. _

_ “We need to stop,” a voice said.  It came from everywhere, and nowhere--or was it in his own head?  He waved it away. To stop would be to freeze to death for certain.  “You’re getting way too cold. I can tell,” the voice pressed.  _

_ “We can’t stop here,” Tseer ground out.  He forced himself to take another step. Suddenly, a piercing scream cut the night, startling Tseer into looking up from the ground.  He took his next step blindly, and instantly regretted it as his foot slid out from under him, skating along a patch of ice. He crashed to the floor, wings flailing.  Then there was silence, except for the wind.  _ A rabbit, _ he thought groggily.   _ Something caught its dinner.   _  He made no move to get up.  He had no energy left, and there was no point.  Dying here, or dying a hundred yards farther away, the result was still the same.  Tseer let his eyes slide closed, and shivered. _

_ Then, there was heat.  The sleet that had begun to pile on top of him melted and ran in rivulets down his feathers.  Tseer opened his eyes. A massive bird, easily twice his size, stood beside him, holding a wing over his body.  Steam rose from its red-and-orange plumage. Still shivering and scarcely believing his eyes, Tseer reached out a talon and gently touched its flank.  It warbled in response, shaking out its feathers and settling down on the ground next to him. The phoenix snaked its head to touch its beak to his, and it was like diving into a summer lake.  Warmth washed over him in waves.  _

_ “Thank you,” he said as the shivers subsided.  The phoenix grabbed his shirt with its beak and pulled him closer, tucking him under its chin.  He pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning back against the bird’s breast as it wrapped its wings around him.   _

_ Then he blinked, and the phoenix was gone, but its warmth lingered. Instead of wings wrapped around his shoulders, there was another pair of arms.  A man’s chest rose and fell behind his spine, Tseer’s wings pressed close to his back between them. He tried to turn his head to get a better look, but could get only a flash of brown hair.  The arms around him tightened protectively. _

_ “No,” the man said in a familiar voice.  “You aren’t ready to see yet.” Tseer considered the words patiently, in no hurry to leave the languid heat of the embrace.  He didn’t know why, but it felt wrong, and the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him, like picking at a scab. Something hot and sticky began to seep into the back of his shirt. _

_ Slowly, he sat up.  The man didn’t offer up any resistance this time.  Tseer turned and then, everything  _ shifted _.  Suddenly, he was in Wyatt’s lab again, pinning him to the wall with his talons digging into his throat.  Tseer squeezed and felt a satisfying crunch, cutting off Wyatt’s pleas.  _

_ Then, as he watched, the tears coursing down Wyatt’s cheeks were replaced with shimmering orange beads of fire.  Wyatt’s throat grew warm, and then hot, and then searing. Tseer cried out as he felt his talons blister, but he held fast.  Locking eyes with Wyatt, he expected to see triumph--satisfaction at least, in knowing what was coming next--but all he saw there was horror.  Wyatt’s mouth opened in a silent scream, and then everything dissolved in fire. _


	2. Chapter 2

Tseer woke to the sounds of quiet conversation and a pan sizzling.  Spidercat had left their perch on his shoulders, and shadows moved on the other side of the curtain separating Tseer’s perch from the rest of the office-turned-bedroom.  He stretched, shaking out his feathers and flexing his wings and talons. Everything felt stiff and cold, like it was the dead of winter instead of the height of spring, but moving around seemed to help at least a little.  He pulled back the curtain and stepped off his perch.

Ai and Tessa were up, and cooking breakfast.  The woman they had rescued from Moto Specialized Research was also awake--she still had her eyes squeezed shut, but she was sitting up on the couch and holding a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Tseer,” said Tessa, coming over to offer him a cup of coffee.  “You were out late. Was everything all right with the facility?”

“Yeah, I just perched on a building across the way and watched for a bit,” he replied, taking the cup--which was really more of a bowl, to accommodate his beak--and sipping.  If Tessa suspected that he was purposefully being vague about how much time he’d actually spent at the facility, she didn’t say anything. “It looked like the fire destroyed most of the interior, but the bones of the building were untouched.”  He shrugged. “Concrete. I also saw the guard Seshmir nearly killed talking with the cops over My-Forehead-No-Longer-Squeaks-With-Kisses-Worthy-Of-Your-Fiery-Lips’s body. I think he was implicating them like Seshmir told him to. Probably it won’t fool Stanton for a second, but it’ll keep the authorities off our tail, at least.”  

Tseer didn’t mention leaving the facility to meet with Otto, or his later confrontation with Wyatt.  His stomach churned.

_ I’m allowed to keep my victory to myself for a little while,  _ he thought, and pressed lightly against the center of his chest.  It still ached. 

Tseer let Tessa get back to cooking and sat on the sofa. Their guest tucked her feet in closer to give him room.  The nubs on top of her head wriggled as he settled. It was easier to see the green scales that ran up the backs of her arms and the sides of her face now that it was light, and Tseer wasn’t a weird werewolf creature.  

He shook off the memory of holding My-Forehead-No-Longer-Squeaks-With-Kisses-Worthy-Of-Your-Fiery-Lips in his claws, his new-formed tongue and teeth against their neck, and the sensation of  _ pulling _ until skin and bone separated.  Tseer had never killed anyone in his life, and in one night now, he’d killed two.  Orron and Tessa killed people in battle all the time, and he’d never had a problem with it, but it was different, to have been at his own hands.  At least the assassin had been in the heat of battle. __ Wyatt, he had sought out and murdered in cold blood.   _ Tseer, are you okay?  Tseer, please. _  Tseer cleared his throat and grabbed hold of the present with both talons.  

“Hey,” Tseer said.  “I didn’t really introduce myself last night.  My name is Tseer. I’m the one who brought you dinner last night.”  The woman turned her face towards him, her eyes still squeezed shut.

“Hi,” she said.  “Your voice sounds different.”  Tseer rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I, uh, took a werewolf potion during the fight.  It’s worn off now.”

“Oh.”  She didn’t relax at all.  “I’m Delila.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Delila.”  The name tugged at the back of Tseer’s mind.  He looked her over again. If he imagined what the nodules on top of her head used to be… “Delila, may I ask you a personal question?”   
  
She nodded, her mouth a thin line.  

“Are you a medusa?” Tseer remembered getting a knock on his parents’ door in the middle of winter, and going searching for a girl who had been “kidnapped” by a “monster.” He remembered finding her in the middle of the woods, distraught because she and her girlfriend had been attacked in the middle of the night.

_ They took her, _ she had sobbed.   _ They took Delila.  She never did anything wrong. _

“Yes.  Why--” Delilah was cut off as the door downstairs banged open.  Tseer heard Orron speaking to whoever had come inside, and relaxed a fraction when the voice that responded was Seshmir’s.  They continued to talk animatedly. Tseer couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

“Hey guys, we got a problem down here,” called Orron.  “Uh, can--especially someone with--Tessa, can you just get your butt down here, cause you can heal?”

Tseer looked at Tessa, who looked at Ai.

“Yeah,” Tessa called back, already heading downstairs.  She turned back with her hand on the banister. “Um, honey, could you keep an eye on the bacon, and maybe serve it up?  If you don’t mind?”

“Yeah?” said Ai.  She stuck her head out of the doorway as Tessa took the stairs two at a time.  “What’s wrong?”

Orron’s voice floated up to them.  “Seshmir’s caught a case of the blindness.”

“That ain’t like somethin’ you can catch,” said Ai.

“That’s all I got, I’m sorry,” came the reply.   _ That _ was worrying.

Tseer stood up and set his cooling bowl of coffee on the rickety table in front of the sofa.  

“Excuse me,” he said to Delila, and jumped off the balcony after Tessa.

“What happened?” she was asking Seshmir.  The dragonborn was sitting in the cab of the truck they had co-opted from the fight at Kravitz’s church, leaning on his knees.  (How long ago had that happened? Just a few days? It seemed like an eternity.) It was parked on the far side of the warehouse away from Jared and his nest.  Jared looked up as Tseer landed, then went back to reading one of the books they had bought for him. Tseer walked over to Tessa and Orron, making a semicircle around the open truck door.

“I went for my morning run, and I went blind,” Seshmir replied.  His eyes were open, flat silver and pupil-less as always. Tseer couldn’t tell whether they were tracking the movements of the people around him or not.

“Did you see anyone casting anything?” Tessa pressed.

“No, I didn’t see anything, I’m blind!” A thread of panic had entered Seshmir’s voice, but Tseer stopped scanning the room for threats.  The snark at least meant that they weren’t in imminent danger.

“I meant before you went blind, you son of a bitch!  Ugh!” Despite her irritation, Tessa placed her hand on Seshmir’s head.  A bright grey light pulsed from under her fingers, then faded. Seshmir sighed.

“Nope.”

“That should have worked,” said Tessa, disbelieving.  “That should have worked!” 

That was  _ really _ worrying.  Tseer grabbed for the key hanging around his neck. “Hey, Corra, are you awake?” he asked, sending his voice through the magical device.

“Something is very wrong with Seshmir,” Tessa added, putting a hand on her own key. Tseer heard the echo of her voice in his mind even as she spoke aloud.  

“What?” Corra sounded groggy.  

Seshmir’s hand shot up and grabbed at the back of his own head, as if in sudden pain.

“He’s blind and my healing didn’t work!” said Tessa.

“What?” Corra repeated.  “Okay. I mean--what? I mean, we’re on our way!”  

“Oh, I’ve got it,” said Orron, snapping his fingers.  “How long has it been since you’ve had alcohol?”

“About a week, I guess?” said Seshmir.  He was turning his head slowly back and forth, as if searching for something.

“I’ll go get you a beer,” said Orron as he turned and walked up the stairs to the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.”  Seshmir was barely paying attention to Orron.  He had his hand out now, hovering over a pile of his discarded belongings on the passenger seat of the truck.  Tseer craned his neck to look, feeling entirely out of his depth. If Tessa and Orron couldn’t help Seshmir, he didn’t have the faintest idea what he could do.  

“Do you need help looking for something, Seshmir?” asked Tseer, darting around to the other side of the truck and opening the door.  Stepping up so he could reach, he spread out the objects on the seat: Seshmir’s long coat, head knocker, manacles, belt pouches, hat, communication keys, and a plain white porcelain mask. Almost immediately, Seshmir’s hand paused over the mask, and he snatched it up.  Tessa, also having watched the whole thing, grabbed for Seshmir’s wrist. Seshmir twisted his hand over and around to break her grip, and dove to the side. Tseer flared his wings and stepped back as Tessa jumped into the truck on top of Seshmir. They wrestled for a minute until finally Tessa cried out in frustration and backed up, pulling out of the cab.  

“Seshmir, what  _ was _ that thing?” she said, making no move to help him up.  He struggled for a second, his tail getting caught in the steering wheel, before he finally pulled himself back onto the seat.  The mask was gone.

“What was what thing?” Seshmir asked, rubbing the back of his neck.  Tseer saw Tessa’s foot twitch, as if she started to stamp it and aborted the movement.

“What was that thing you just put on your face?  What was that mask, and where did it go?”

“I’m wearing it, like I always do,” said Seshmir.  Tseer tilted his head. Seshmir’s face looked exactly like it always did, blue scales and all.

“What?”  Tessa blinked.

_ Magic bullshit,  _ Tseer thought.

“Don’t you wear a mask all the time?” asked Seshmir.  “They’re very stylish.”

“No!  What the fuck are you talking about?”  This time, Tessa did stamp her foot. “What was that thing?”

“A mask.”

“Where did it go?”

“It’s on my face.”

“Why did you think you needed to put it on when you’re blind!”

“Because.  My hand got hot anytime I pointed at it.”

Tseer clacked his beak in alarm.  Nothing in the pile had felt warm.  His talons were freezing; he felt sure he would have noticed.

“Did it  _ cure _ your blindness?” he asked, suspicious.

“It would seem so,” Seshmir quipped.

Fucking  _ magic bullshit _ .

Orron appeared again at the top of the stairs, beer in hand.  He took in the energy of the room, looking from Tessa, to Seshmir, and finally to Tseer, then shook his head and went right back into the office.

Tessa threw her hands up.  “So do you always wear it?”

“Yep.  All the time.”

“Except today.”

“Except today.”

“Why did you take it off today?”

“I wanted to go for a cleansing run, didn’t want to carry around any crap.  It’s been a weird week.” A hard edge was creeping into Seshmir’s voice. Tessa was gesturing wildly, practically pacing in anger, but Seshmir hadn’t moved an inch.  She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Tseer cut her off.

“So the mask made you blind when you took it off, and then restored your sight and stopped causing you pain when you put it back on?” Tseer asked quietly.  He didn’t know what had happened, but he did know what it felt like to have Tessa jumping down your throat, and want to curl inwards and give her nothing just to spite her.  Shouting and pressing hard just made it worse. 

Seshmir turned to look at Tseer with a wry sort of grin.   “Yeah, that’s kind of concerning.”

“That’s more than ‘kind of’ concerning, Seshmir,” Tseer replied with a tilt of his head.

“What does it  _ do _ for you?” asked Tessa.  Although she had also taken on a gentler tone, her fists were still held clenched at her sides.

“Nothing that I’m aware of,”  Seshmir said, less defensive now, but clearly done with the conversation.

“Then why do you wear it?”

Seshmir shrugged.  “Stylish.”

“I can’t tell the difference between your face and your face!”

“Style doesn’t have to be obvious.”

Tessa stopped pacing and held her hand out, palm up, imploring.  “Seshmir, why are you acting like this?” Seshmir said nothing, so she continued.  “We’re your friends. You can tell us what’s wrong.” She lowered her voice. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m kind of concerned myself.  This is a strange development.” Seshmir grinned again and waved a hand.  Tseer could practically see the walls he was building around himself, shutting them out.  “So--” Seshmir began with a chuckle.

“No!” shouted Tessa.  “Stop stop stop stop stop talking, stop!”  Seshmir stopped, surprised. “If you really want to keep all of this stuff from me and from the rest of the group, and from people who obviously care about you, then there’s nothing that we can do.”  Tessa took a breath. “But I have been concerned for a long time, and I know that the others have too, and I feel like there are things that you’re willfully not telling yourself.” She gestured to the faint indentation on Seshmir’s shoulder that showed where Jenkins, his invisible familiar, was sitting.  “About who you’re actually serving. And I can’t help you if you won’t let me help you, so I’m just going to go have some fucking coffee and bacon and eggs.” 

Without another word, Tessa turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs, slamming the door to the office behind her.  Tseer looked at Seshmir. Seshmir did not look back at him.

“Seshmir…” Tseer trailed off.  

“I would like to be alone, please, Tseer,” Seshmir said, all traces of humor gone from his voice.  His face was a perfect mask.

“Yeah,” said Tseer. “Of course.” 

He flew to the upper landing.  After a few minutes, he heard the door to the warehouse open and shut as Seshmir left the building. Tessa got on the key.

“Corra,” she began.  “I don’t know what’s going on with Seshmir.  He put on this mask and then he was all better, and then he left and I don’t know what’s happening.”

“What?” Corra replied.  “Are you o--are you alone?”

“No, I’m not alone, but he is.”

“What do you mean he’s alone? Did you let him leave?”

“What do you mean, I let him leave?  You try keeping a dragon here!”

“You’re stronger!  He’s just an investigator!”

“I mean, I’m not gonna keep him here against his will, Corra!  He left because he wanted to! I’m not gonna restrain him!”

Corra sighed.  “Do you still need me over there, or not?”

“You probably should come over,” Tseer chimed in.  “So we can talk about it.”  _ Without Seshmir being able to listen in on the call, _ he didn’t add.

“Yeah, okay,” said Corra.  “Otto and I are calling an uber now.”

They ate breakfast while they waited.  Orron tried to make conversation with Ai and Delila, but eventually everyone settled into a sort of subdued silence.  Tseer was just about to take a plate down to Jared, who couldn’t fit in the office upstairs, when the door to the warehouse slammed open for the second time that day.

“Tseer,  _ what the fuck did you do? _ ” yelled Corra.  Tseer put down the plate and stuck his head out of the office.  She was waving a newspaper, her face twisted in anger. Otto stood beside her, arms crossed.  Tseer walked down the stairs slowly, giving himself time to get his heart rate under control.  He knew this was coming, but with all the excitement about Seshmir, he thought he’d have more time to figure out what he was going to say.

To figure out how he felt.

He didn’t need to get close to Corra to read the headline--he’d been able to see it from the second floor--but he walked up to her anyway and took the newspaper from her hands. 

“WYATT VANCROFT MURDERED,” it read.

Tseer’s chest throbbed.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

 

 

> WYATT VANCROFT MURDERED
> 
> The Golden Boy and CEO of the Ki-Rin Collective was killed by an unknown assailant at Innotech Industries late Friday night.  
> 
> Wyatt Vancroft, 23, was found dead by police around 12 am, after they responded to a fire alarm in the building.
> 
> A combination of “sharp-force” and “blunt-force” trauma appeared to be present, according to the coroner’s office, but the ultimate cause of death had yet to be determined.
> 
> Due to the placement and concurrence of the injuries, police believe the assailant has claws of some kind.
> 
> Eddie Rosales, the 19-year-old night shift guard and the only other person in the building Friday night, was attacked from behind and knocked unconscious, said police.  The door to Vancroft’s lab was forced open after several other failed attempts and one fireball.
> 
> According to Rosales, Vancroft had just moved his research to Innotech and had specific demands regarding security, including that he have the only key to the lab he used.  
> 
> Officers said that while there were signs of a struggle inside the lab, Vancroft did not appear to have any defensive wounds.  Combined with the grisly nature of Vancroft’s death, police believe the crime was a personal one, although Enix Synth, 24-year-old researcher at Innotech and Vancroft’s friend, told reporters that some of Vancroft’s research did appear to be missing.
> 
> The Ki-Rin Collective have declined to offer a statement on the attack.

“What did you do?” repeated Corra.

Tseer’s talons were trembling around the newspaper.  He clenched them tighter, tearing the edges of the pages.

“Seems like you already know,” he said quietly, not looking up from the article.

_The door to Vancroft’s lab was forced open…_

A pair of hands came from behind and snatched the paper from Tseer.  There was a gasp.

“Tseer, you _didn’t_ ,” breathed Tessa.  Tseer hadn’t even heard her come down the stairs.  His heartbeat was in his ears, and every one sent a sharp pang needling out from his chest.  Someone clapped him on the back so hard he stumbled forward.

“Ah, so you finally found him,” said Orron.  “That’s one less enemy we have to worry about.”

His mind raced to nowhere.  He had to explain. He backed up half a step and bumped into Orron’s massive frame, trapped in the circle of his friends.  Why was this so hard for him to speak about? Wyatt deserved to die.

Why did it feel like he was trying to convince himself?

He looked from face to face, searching for something to ground himself on.  Corra was opening her mouth, her teeth flashing. Tessa straightened her spine.  Orron’s expression was passive, as if he were deep in though. And Otto…

Otto was frowning at him.  They even had the nerve to look disappointed.  How dare they? He wasn’t a child!

A tiny lick of rage blossomed in his chest, chasing away the icy blackness that was consuming him.  Desperate for the relief it brought, he fed it, each thought a piece of kindling.

Otto _knew_ what would happen when they gave him that keycard.  They’d sat there and lectured him about bitterness and revenge, but at the end they had given him exactly what he needed to find and kill Wyatt.  And now that it was done, they were going to stand there and look at him like they expected better?

_They just wanted you to do their dirty work for them,_ Tseer thought.   _They didn’t want Corra to hate them, so they gave me all the tools and pointed me in the right direction.  They_ knew.

Tseer was warm for the first time since Wyatt’s blood had poured over his talons, hot and steaming.  He locked eyes with Otto.

“I went to meet Otto last night, after I checked on Moto Specialized Research,” he said, cutting off Corra as she began to speak.  “They told me they had a plan to blackmail Wyatt, but that they’d _reconsidered_.”  He ground out the word, an accusation.  Otto didn’t flinch. “Instead, they gave me the keycard they’d intended to use, and told me where Wyatt had holed himself up.  So I went to Innotech Industries, broke into Wyatt’s lab, and killed him.”

“You _murdered_ him,” said Corra.  Tseer flicked his gaze up to hers.  She looked horrified.

“Yes,” he said simply.  He basked in his anger, using it as a shield.  

“Tseer, killing someone in a battle is one thing,” Tessa began, “and I understand how you felt about Wyatt--”

“You understand _nothing_ about what I felt,” snarled Tseer, turning on her.  

“I’m the only one here who does!” she shouted back.  “It’s all I’ve known for the last seventeen years! At least your parents are still fucking _alive_!”  She shoved him, and he stumbled backwards.  “You run around like you’re the only one with a tragic fucking story, Tseer, but you’re not!”

“Then why are you upset! I took out a major threat--”

It was Corra’s turn to shout.  “You _murdered_ a _person_ , Tseer! In cold blood!”  She grabbed the newspaper from Tessa and shook it in his face.  “Did he even defend himself? You’re fucking standing here in front of us, so I’m guessing not!”   

The flame in his chest flickered.

“I can’t believe this,” he said.  “He killed ten people with a snap of his fingers.  He’d have done the same to my parents if Otto hadn’t gotten them out.  He hired an assassin and a mind flayer who _literally ate Broderick’s brain_ just to get information on us.  Why did he deserve more than any of them!”  

“Yes, he was a dangerous piece of shit!” said Tessa.  “That doesn’t mean you get to go off on your own and make unilateral decisions!  We’re a _team_ , Tseer!  Or at least, I thought we were!  We’re supposed to work together.”

“Yeah, because our last group meeting was so conclusive!” Tseer spat.  “Did you expect me to come asking for permission? ‘Please, Tessa, can I go kill the man who ruined my life?’  You and Corra wanted to join forces with Wyatt--how am I supposed to trust your judgement?”

“We could have used him!  He could have told us where Stanton is!  We weren’t saying we’d be friends or go skipping through a god damned field with him!”

“Wyatt was hiding at an unrelated facility,” said Tseer.  He felt certain of the fact, but didn’t know why. “Stanton was pushing him out of the company.  There wasn’t any information he could give us that we don’t already know.”

“How could you even know that?”

“Because he was using the Heart of the Raven Queen, and if Stanton knew about that, he would have taken it for himself.”

Tessa gaped at him.  He used her silence to his advantage.

“Do you know what he was working on, Tessa?” he asked.  “He was building an automaton, like the one Malik had.” He clicked his beak in disgust.  “He used to talk about what he wanted to build, you know. Back when I was still his bodyguard.  He wanted to build metal people who could not just follow orders, but who could _think_ and _adapt_.  Is that something you want to fight?”

“Tseer, you are _such an idiot_ ,” whispered Corra.  Her eyes were wide. “Who do you think is going to take possession of all that research, now that Wyatt is dead?”

The air left his lungs in a rush.  If Stanton got the Heart… He couldn’t fathom the destruction and pain.  It was hard enough to fight the anxiety clawing at the back of his mind, the baseless certainty that he had done something terribly wrong.   Faced with this new possibility, his rage abandoned him, leaving not even the smallest of coals behind. And in that instant the cold returned.  It curled around his heart, almost a caress, and sent icicles into his veins. He shivered.

“We still have time to get the Heart back,” he said weakly.  “It’s a crime scene.”

“Fuck,” Corra said, and took her key out.  “Seshmir, whatever shit you’re dealing with right now, we need you back at the warehouse.  True to form, Tseer has done something _incredibly stupid_.”  She glared at him.  

Tessa stalked off upstairs, presumably to talk to Ai.  Corra pulled Otto away as well.

“Are you gonna yell at me too?” Tseer asked Orron, who still hovered nearby.  Orron shrugged.

“I had a beer last night with Moradin,” he said.  Then hurriedly added, “In a dream, I mean.” He crossed his arms.  “He told me I was on a dangerous path, after what happened in the bar last night.”  

“You mean when you killed three people who had surrendered, and were entirely at your mercy,” sniped Tseer.  He was tired of sanctimonious bullshit.

“Yes, that,” admitted Orron.  “I’m not saying that Wyatt didn’t deserve to die.  Because he did. And had he come to us, without a hostage to hide behind, I would have killed him, myself.”  He sighed. “I’m just passing along a warning. You follow Pelor, don’t you?”

“I did.”  The words fell like rocks from his mouth.

“Right,” Orron said.  “Look, it seems to me that the gods have taken a pretty keen interest in our group.  Ioun, and the Raven Queen, and Moradin--they all seem to think that a storm is brewing.  Things will only get worse. I’ve got my own feelings about that, and things I need to think about, but when your god tells you that you’ve crossed a line, you gotta listen.”  He clapped Tseer on the back again, sending him forward a step, and left to go back upstairs to the office.

Tseer shuffled over to the vacant couch and sat down.  He felt hollowed out, and he couldn’t stop shivering, either.  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his talons.  

_The door to Vancroft’s lab was forced open…_

Why was that the line that stood out to him?  Of course he had forced the door. Nothing else had worked.  He’d set off the fireball when none of the guard’s keys opened the door, and when that did nothing, he’d resorted to attacking the mechanism.  Finally, Wyatt had responded to the noise and opened the door. When he saw Tseer he’d tried to close it, but Tseer had got his talon in the way fast enough that he couldn’t, and Tseer had forced it back open.

His breath caught in his throat.   _He had got his talon in the way._ The door had closed on it.  He remembered pushing away the pain of it, compartmentalizing the injury to deal with it later.  Knowing already what he would see, he slowly brought his talons away from his face. He closed his right hand into a fist, flexing it experimentally.  There was a kink in the middle digit that hadn’t been there yesterday, as if a break had been inexpertly splinted and healed naturally. Was he imagining the slight stiffness there?

_It was the Heart,_ he thought.   _It had to have been the Heart._

They didn’t know what the Heart of the Raven Queen was capable of.  He could remember clearly it sparking up and lashing out with red bolts of energy.  Somehow, it must have healed his hand, and something about the residual magic was causing the pain in his chest now.  That had to be it. And when they got the Heart back, Orron and Tessa could study it and figure out how to reverse the effects.

_Something is very wrong,_ said a voice in the back of his mind.   _The Heart wouldn’t have healed it imperfectly._  He squashed it mercilessly.  Thankfully, that was when Seshmir arrived, saving him from his own thoughts.

Seshmir strolled into the warehouse, looking for all the world as if the events from the morning hadn’t happened.  Corra walked over to him and handed him the newspaper wordlessly, giving him a moment to process. His toothy grin faltered only a fraction as he read the article.  He looked up and met Tseer’s eyes, then turned and had a hushed conversation with Corra.

Tessa bounded down the stairs with Ai and Orron in tow.  “Are we gonna attack now, or wait until tonight?” she asked.

“The place will be crawling with cops right now,” said Ai.  “We’d better wait until tonight.”

“The longer we wait, the more time Stanton has to pull strings,” said Otto.  “Attacking now is suicide, but we risk it all being for nothing if we wait.”

Tseer got up from the couch and walked over, but everyone seemed to be ignoring him.

“I think--” he began.

“No one cares what you think, Tseer,” spat Corra, her eyes flashing black before settling back to her usual gold.  “You’ve already fucked things up enough.”

He crossed his arms and paced, folding and unfolding his wings in irritation.  Part of him wanted to just leave. If they didn’t want him around, why should he bother to stay?  He took half a step towards the door and stopped.

Infuriatingly, Corra was right.  He had messed this up, and even if they yelled at him, he still owed it to his friends to fix it.  He thought of Jared, torn from his home and turned into a monster. They didn’t even know yet what Stanton had done to Delila, but it was assuredly heinous.  With the Heart, there was no telling what damage he could cause.

“We’ll attack today,” Tessa was saying.  “Otto is right. We don’t have the luxury of time.  Orron, do you know any spells that can disguise us?”

Orron grunted.  “If you give me a few minutes, yes.”

“Perfect,” said Tessa.  “Then we’ll pile into the truck.  It has Ki-Rin markings, so it shouldn’t look entirely out of place.  Tseer?”

Tseer looked up.  “I thought you didn’t want my help.”

“Don’t be a child,” she snapped.  He opened his beak to retort, but she continued right over him.  “Do you still have the key Otto gave you to get in the building?”

“Yeah,” he said, stuffing his talons in his pockets and glowering.  “I know the layout inside, too.”

“Good.  We’ll get in, playing up our disguises for as long as possible, and get the Heart out as fast as we can.  Anyone accosts us, we knock them out. Hopefully we can be in and out before the cops can call in backup. Any questions?”  Tessa looked around the room. Tseer avoided her gaze. “Then suit up. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from [harpydora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harpydora): "Tseer just kills Wyatt as soon as they're out and then lives the rest of his life with this nagging feeling that something's missing."
> 
> Many, many, many thanks to [gallifreyburning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyburning) for agreeing to beta this. Her commentary is absolutely invaluable, and I am very lucky to be able to consider her my friend.


End file.
